Death of a Spy
by MelodyAnne
Summary: LAUREN MUST DIE! KILL HER! KILL HER! DIE! DIE! Various ways various people could kill Lauren...It's good for the soul of anti-Laurens, at least...Hmm...I'm sure Final Destination would give me some veeery good ideas...[COMPLETE, NOW THAT LAUREN IS DEAD]
1. Option 1: Sydney

Death of a Spy

Option 1: Sydney

Disclaimer: Alias isn't mine. If it were, I would have already fulfilled this little fantasy!

A/N: This is more of a rant, really. I was pissed because a friend screwed me over, and another friend left me to do as much damage control as I could alone, and my high school was under a lockdown and I was bored, and I started thinking, "Wouldn't it be great if Sydney up and killed Lauren?" All anti-Lauren peeps (such as myself, obviously!) will love this!

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Sydney awoke slowly, her foggy senses clearing one at a time. First, she felt the cold, hard cement beneath her head, and the dull ache of her shoulder told her that her arm was being held up by something, made even more painful as she lay on her stomach. Next, she smelled the dankness of the room that comes from leaving a cement floor wet and damp way too long. She could taste blood in her mouth. Her hearing clearly the slowest of all; at first all she could hear were muffled noises. That soon cleared into sounds she could identify as water dripping. And vague footsteps somewhere in the distance.

That sound spurred her the rest of the way into consciousness. She sat up quickly and managed to ignore the spinning of her head, but her sudden motion nearly jerked her arm out of its socket. She twisted around gingerly to see what held her arm.

A pair of handcuffs was snapped around her left wrist, and the other end barely fit around a thick wooden pole attached to the wall horizontally, about two feet from the floor. Glancing around, she realized she was in a basement, with metal pipes crisscrossing the ceiling and some of the walls. It was no bigger than the basement under someone's house might be, and it was an open space. The only really difference was that there weren't even any windows to deem too small to climb through.

The sound of footsteps reached her ears again, more distinct now. They were clearly coming from the stairs.

How had she gotten here? How could she steel herself for an encounter if she didn't even remember being captured? Last she knew, she had been in Vaughn and Lauren's apartment, waiting while Lauren finished a phone call so they could go to dinner. Then…nothing.

The footsteps drew closer. Being unable to prepare for whatever was coming, she had no way to stop the fear from balling in her stomach and creeping slowly upward and threatening to choke her, to block all logical thought.

Her expression was the first thing Sydney noticed after the initial shock faded. That alone squashed the inkling of hope that had preceded the shock. She was cool, confident, and her smile held no amusement.

Sydney had to allow herself to be angry with the woman who stood studying her at the foot of the stairs, because right behind the anger was the fear, and an amazing sense of sympathy for Vaughn.

Because the woman standing there was undoubtedly Lauren Reid.

"How the hell did you get me here?!?" Sydney shouted angrily.

Lauren's only response was to laugh and give her another sickening grin.

Sydney forced herself to remain calm, even with her anger and her pain for the man she loved bubbling close to the surface. She leaned against the wooded post and studied Lauren as intently as she was being studied.

"You're good, Sydney. I'll give you that. All that time the Covenant thought they had broken you," Lauren said at last, her British accent replaced by a slight Russian one. "They wanted to watch you when you came back. I thought it was a mistake not to kill you, but they refused to listen to their mole in the CIA." Lauren shrugged and paced slowly in front of Sydney, confident that she was just out of reach. "I finally convinced them that you were too much of a threat. To the opposition, and to my husband."

Tears burned in Sydney's throat, but she didn't dare degrade herself in front of Lauren. An image of a large jungle cat jumping on Lauren and slicing her throat with huge, razor-sharp claws formed in Sydney's mind.

"You don't love him," she accused carefully, keeping her voice cold when the fury wanted to push through.

"Of course not. But he's mine, so you can't touch him. It's a woman's code of honor," Lauren said with a sarcastic smirk. Her confidence was bolstered by Sydney's absolute stillness. She leaned over and got right in Sydney's face. "And he's still mine."

Sydney didn't think, she just reacted. Her elbow connected with Lauren's temple and sent her staggering backward. Sydney leapt to her feet and in one motion jerked her hand against the cuffs and kicked viciously at the wooden pole. By some miracle the post splintered and broke, allowing her full range of motion. She lunged at Lauren before the other woman had had a chance to recover her footing completely and planted her heel firmly in Lauren's stomach, knocking her back into the wall.

Lauren curse breathlessly and drew a gun, but Sydney tackled her and sent the gun skidding across the floor. The two wrestled on the hard floor, each trying to get up. Lauren flipped Sydney and caused her to hit the back of her head on the floor. She saw stars, but managed to get her fist to connect somewhere on Lauren's face. Both rolled free and ran for the gun laying several yards away. Sydney dived, and to her relief felt her fingers close around the cool metal of the gun. She rolled and came up to her knees, barely taking the time to aim before shot let off a shot.

The small caliber hand gun sounded more like a cannon to Sydney's ears as it echoed, bouncing around as if to taunt her.

The bullet hit Lauren high and to the slight left of her chest. Sydney saw it all in slow motion. Lauren spun to her left, and shock registered on her face as she fell back…back…back. Her body bounced once when it hit the ground, and her head snapped back and hit with a resounding thud. She lifted one hand as if to cover the wound that had already turned her shirt crimson, but it dropped back to her side.

And she lay still.

Lifeless.

Dead.

Lauren Reid was dead. 

Sydney Bristow had killed her.

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So? What do ya think? I think it turned out to be one big rant-like thing, but I like it. I like the idea of Syd kicking Lauren's ass, and killing her is even better! I might do something about Vaughn killing her too, later. What do you think?


	2. Option 2: Vaughn

Death of a Spy

Option 2: Vaughn

Disclaimer: Alias isn't mine. Everyone knows that if I owned Alias, I'd have created a character for myself on Alias and killed Lauren personally.

A/N: I'm sort of extending my original idea here, partially because I liked writing the first part and partially because of the review I got from Adelaide Bristow. I liked your ideas, Adelaide Bristow! Hope you enjoy!

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A single, accidental surveillance shot. A routine test of their satellites, that's all it had been. Nothing major had been happening at the time, so when Dixon had ordered an unscheduled--as they often were--surveillance check, Vaughn had jumped at the opportunity to do something.

It was a simple task. Upload a current picture from each satellite, check that the time, and the date, and other details were correct.

Then he'd seen the picture from the bird watching LA. Two nondescript black vehicles, on a sedan and one an SUV, in a barren field with no buildings for miles. And no building mean no people in LA. He'd spent twenty minutes zooming in and adjusting the focus on the picture. And what he'd seen when he was through had caused his whole life, that precious life he'd worked so hard to rebuild, fall in around him.

Because there was no question who those people in the picture were. Sark was unmistakable to any CIA agent. But the other was a figure Vaughn knew well. Intimately. Her face was a face he'd woken up to every morning for months. Standing there with Sark, and showing no resemblance of fear, was Lauren Reid.

Vaughn stared at the screen of his computer for several long minutes before he realized anyone walking by his desk could see the picture. Surprise made him unsure of his loyalties, shock made him doubt the truth when it sat right in front of him.

He printed a copy of the picture and slipped it into a folder he could take home--or away form the CIA, at least--later.

Remembering the surveillance check, he forced himself, he forced himself to methodically check every one of the CIA's birds. But if anything was wrong with one of them, Michael Vaughn would never have seen it.

Promptly at six o'clock, Vaughn slipped a few files into his briefcase to work on later. No one would even notice the folder containing the picture.

Lauren had a meeting to attend with the NSC that evening. Vaughn hoped she would go straight to the meeting, and give him time to think. Or to order his jumbled thoughts into something resembling thinking. His mind seemed to freeze every time he thought of the picture in his briefcase, and one time sweat beaded on his forehead at the mere thought that his Lauren could be a double agent.

In his apartment he spread the other various files on the coffee table. One folder containing one piece of paper would look suspicious if anyone showed up. He leaned back on the sofa and opened the only important folder on his lap. He looked away at the sight of Lauren with Sark, but he forced his eyes back to the paper.

Best case scenario, Lauren had been operating without the knowledge of the CIA or the NSC. Worst case, she was Covenant.

Vaughn nearly jumped through the roof when the door opened and Lauren walked in. Casually, but quickly, he flipped the folder shut and set it on the table with the other ones.

"Hi, honey," he said as he stood up to kiss her briefly.

"Hey," she said with a smile. "I only have ten minutes," she added, brushing past him. "The NSC meeting, remember?"

"Of course. I didn't expect you to come home first, though. Since you're home, I thought may be the meeting was canceled."

"No such luck," Lauren laughed. Vaughn didn't see her eyes snap to the folder he'd put down the moment his back was turned. She went into the bedroom to change clothes. "These shoes are killing my feet," she claimed. "And I don't have any others to match this suit."

Nine minutes later she was searching for her jacket and glanced at her briefcase.

"Michael, I left my notes for the meeting on the bed. Could you get them for me?" she asked.

"Sure."

Michael disappeared into the bedroom while Lauren snatched open his file.

"They're not on the bed."

"May be they fell. I know I had them in there," Lauren called while she stared at the picture in disbelief, her tone never changing.

Resignedly, she drew the gun hidden under her blazer.

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Nothing else to do, she reasoned. _I can't be compromised._

"Michael, I found them," she called, then slid into place by the door, just out of sight.

The blow flew from behind the door frame and sent Vaughn reeling backwards into the bedroom. By the time he recovered himself, Lauren stood in the door way with a gun leveled at him. The emotionless expression on her face was frightening.

"What the hell?!?" he yelled.

"Shut up," she ordered. "Sit down."

Vaughn moved as if to sit on the bed, then lunged forward. When Lauren moved to avoid him, they ended up with the gun locked between them, pointing toward the ceiling. They struggled, but Vaughn couldn't make himself hit her, even though she pounded his head with her free hand with a practiced accuracy.

The gun went off, and both of them froze for the millisecond it took for the bullet to hit the ceiling. Then they continued their fierce struggle for control of the weapon.

Vaughn felt the metal of the gun in his hand, and he pulled at it cautiously, trying to wrench it from Lauren's grasp.

The gun went off again. Only this time, he Vaughn felt the warm blood soak his cotton t-shirt, and felt his legs go weak under him.

And then Lauren dropped in a heap at his feet, blood staining her charcoal gray jacket and a bullet hole torn through it in the center of her chest. Her face was ashen, and her eyes were accusing before they glazed over and became empty.

Vaughn sank onto the bed, unable to stand any more. He touched the blood on his shirt that he'd barely realized wasn't his own. He still expected to feel the searing pain of a bullet ripping through his flesh.

He looked down at Lauren's body, where she lay in a pool of blood that soaked her hair and stained the pretty blue carpet beneath her. Two words kept echoing in his mind as if that was all it could handle.

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She's dead.

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	3. Option 3: Jack

Option 3: Jack

Disclaimer: Alias isn't mine. *Pouts*

A/N: This is really weird, because I wrote this the day of the Alias episode where Jack became suspicious of Lauren, but it was before I saw the episode! I was totally freaked out by that, but hey, I like it anyway!

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Jack glanced suspiciously across the table. He heard and responded appropriately to every word Dixon said, but he wasn't really listening to him. He was watching intently the one person who was the cause of so much anguish between his daughter and the man she loved. Not that he minded Vaughn being unhappy, except that the cause of his mood also made Sydney unhappy.

He'd masked it well, but Jack had become increasingly suspicious of Lauren Reed over the past weeks. Several times she hadn't reacted quite the way she should have to information. Like when she'd been told Vaughn and Sydney were alive in North Korea. Sure, her response had been perfect at first, but as soon as her countenance no longer bore the scrutiny of her informer her expression had changed. Just enough to make Jack suspicious.

Ever since, he'd been watching her. No one else knew of his suspicions, which grew stronger every day. When she'd warned Sydney off of her husband, his suspicions had been confirmed; even across the Op Center he had been able to see that Lauren's eyes lacked the fiery rage of a woman scorned.

Something about that moment pulled at him, tugging at his memory banks like a bulldog on a rope, begging to be recognized for what it was. Yet he couldn't pinpoint anything. 

Staring across the table as Dixon outlined some new mission to Sydney and Vaughn, Jack knew that if he could just figure out what was lurking at the edge of his mind, he'd know what steps to take to protect the people he cared about.

He just had to hope that they could protect themselves until they returned from whatever rat-infested hellhole Dixon was sending them to.

"Jack," Dixon said quietly as everyone else shuffled out of the room. "Are you okay? You didn't hear one word of what I said."

"I'm fine," Jack said firmly. "And I heard the majority of what you said. You're sending Sydney and Vaughn to retrieve data from a foreign government that you believe is researching next-generation nuclear technology." Jack nodded curtly and turned to leave.

"Agent Bristow," Dixon addressed him more formally. "If you're planning some stunt, I'd appreciate prior knowledge so I can handle my superiors."

Jack paused. "I'll be sure to take that into consideration," he agreed, then nodded to him again and walked out.

His eyes zeroed in on the three he was watching most closely engaged in a heated argument, close enough for him to hear them.

"Lauren, we work together! Dixon assigns up ops, we don't ask for them!" Vaughn snapped.

"Well, you certainly haven't asked not to be assigned with _her_!" Lauren accused.

"I _can_ hear you, you know," Sydney said pointedly. "I've told you before," she continued to Lauren, "I'm not doing anything with your husband. As he said, we work together, and I suggest you get used to it."

"You underhanded little bitch!" Lauren snapped, despite Sydney's considerable height advantage. "You know just how to undermine a marriage without ever _doing_ anything, don't you!"

"He's your husband, damn it, and I'm not doing a damn thing with him, nor am I working to undermine your damn marriage!" Sydney said, her voice rising.

"Lauren, you're making a big deal out of nothing," Vaughn said soothingly, hoping to put an end to the embarrassing argument. 

Jack had to find it amusing when both women turned to fire darts out of their eyes at Vaughn; _that_ was real enough.

"Fine. Whatever," Vaughn growled, then stalked away.

Immediately Sydney turned back to Lauren. And hissed, "I won't lower myself to sleeping with another woman's husband! Don't you dare blame your shortcomings on me!"

With that, Sydney turned and left Lauren to appear furious, which she may well have actually been.

On impulse, Jack intercepted Sydney before she could disappear into the maze of desks and computers.

"Sydney." He waited for her to turn, then continued without seeming to notice that she was fuming. "A word?"

She took a deep breath, steadying herself; no point in taking Lauren's stupidity out on her father, now, was there?

"Sure."

He placed a hand on her arm and steered her into an empty office just off the hall.

"Sydney, I suspect there is a mole somewhere in this office." That was true enough. "Dixon doesn't suspect it, or at least hasn't made his suspicions known." Also true. "I need your help. I don't have any definite suspects in mind now, and I want your take on it." He did want her take on it, but he most certainly did have a suspect in mind.

Sydney frowned. "What do you want me to do? You have higher clearance than I do."

"You tend to be closer to some ops, and therefore some _people_, than I am. Just observe."

"Do you have anyone specific in mind?" 

"No. Net yet. Right now, is there anyone you might suspect?"

Sydney opened her mouth to say something, then closed it. "No," she said, shaking her head.

"You should observe your enemies that much closer. You never know," Jack said, opening the door and letting Sydney out ahead of himself.

Both thoughtful now, they silently went separate ways.

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Of _course_ there was a mole. Everyone knew too many ops had been compromised lately for there _not _to be a mole. There had been no formal announcement of an investigation yet, but everyone knew it just the same. How stupid did her father think she was?

There was only one way to respond to what he seemed to think. Sydney would have to find a viable suspect, soon.

She sorted through people in her mind. Vaughn and herself were innocent, of course. Marshal…well, there was very little chance that any criminal organization would tolerate Marshal. Her father…if he were leaking information it would only be to Irena Derevko, and he'd have told her he was doing it, not sent her on some wild goose chase. Dixon was as trustworthy as they came, albeit a bit psycho from time to time. Weiss was Vaughn's friend, and besides, he'd nearly been killed for the CIA more than once. Lauren…well, she was pretty sure her judgment was a little clouded when it cam e to Lauren presently.

Sydney paused, actually stopped in the middle of the corridor. Lauren was the only one close to the task force working against the Covenant that Sydney had a single doubt as to their loyalty. Perhaps it was time to watch Lauren more closely.

Come to think of it, she realized as she continued down the hall, Lauren had been in Washington when the last op had gone awry. No one at the CIA, as far as she knew, had thought to verify her whereabouts; since she'd worked under Lindsay originally, bastard that he was, no one thought to question Lauren.

It made sense. Then Sydney thought of Vaughn. Her joy of having a logical suspect dissipated quickly at the thought of what it would do to Vaughn, if it were in fact the truth.

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Oh, God, she thought suddenly. If Lauren hadn't been in Washington, then she may well have been on that boat with Sydney and Vaughn, and Sark. She may even have been the one Vaughn had caught! Damn it! If only Sark hadn't shown up when he had…

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Italy, and the next-century nuclear weapons. Jack had been belatedly assigned to accompany Sydney and Vaughn as back up when they'd discovered how tight security was in the research facility; tight enough that to hack into it was going to require a van-full of equipment being operated. They also had COM units, ensuring that if they all got separated they could still touch base.

And they'd received Intel that the Covenant was after the same research.

Sydney hadn't been able to look Vaughn in the eye in two days, ever since she'd talked to her father. In that space of time, she became pretty sure that if Lauren was the mole, she'd never handle it any better than Vaughn, and he'd take it hard.

They got into the facility according to the op tech Marshal had designed with no unforeseen problems. All the guards had been tranquilized beforehand.

Sydney and Vaughn were a mere hundred yards down the hall from the room where the research files were kept when a pair of black clad figures, complete with black ski masks, darted into the room ahead of them.

"Covenant," Vaughn muttered as they picked up their pace to a jog.

Guns drawn, they ran all out toward the last know location of the files they wanted. They rounded a corner and found Sark, mask removed, standing cockily in the storage closet holding a file.

"Looking for this?" he asked as they heard the safety click off of a gun behind Sydney's head. "If you want to leave here alive, I suggest you cooperate with my associate there," Sark added, gesturing behind them.

The person behind them--still masked, Vaughn could see from the corner of his eye--pulled two sets of handcuffs from a bag over their shoulder. Neither Vaughn nor Sydney could see the person well enough to tell if they were male or female, and the person didn't speak, either. They cuffed Vaughn's hands, and then twisted the second set of cuffs around the first and cuffed Sydney's hands behind her back, so that they were back to back, and essentially helpless without the guns they'd long since surrendered.

When their captor started to pull them down the hall, Sydney noted with a sickening sinking felling in her stomach that their Covenant friend was distinctly a woman.

The mystery woman pulled them, Sydney in front and Vaughn stumbling behind, along the hall to a door marked basement.

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Oh, God, Sydney thought when she saw the steep set of stairs leading down into darkness.

Her last thought before they were pushed was that, if they survived the fall, their COM units hadn't been discovered and they could signal her father.

Then her head smashed into the top step, and she alternated between her head hitting the cement wall, a cement step, and Vaughn's dead weight crushing her against the stairs as they tumbled downward. The only sound either of them made, and the only thing that assured them the other was still conscious, was the occasional irrepressible grunt.

When they hit the bottom, Vaughn landing full on top of her, Sydney emitted a long, low groan that couldn't be heard at the top of the stairs. Vaughn shifted and managed to turn them both onto their side.

"Syd?" Vaughn managed weakly, his head spinning wickedly. "Are you okay?"

She took a few shaky breaths before she answered to be sure her voice wouldn't break. "I'm fine. You?"

"I'll be okay. Can you try to sit up? I can't feel my arm."

"Yeah."

They struggled for a full minute before the managed to sit upright, leaning back against each other and breathing hard.

"Are you okay?" Vaughn asked again, expelling a hard breath with the words.

This time Sydney had to concentrate to hear him over the ringing in her ears. She closed her eyes because her vision swam, and she had to work to speak audibly. "I'm okay," She mumbled, her voice high and shaky.

Vaughn wasn't much better. He figured that even if they could stand, he'd crash back down to the floor, his head was spinning so badly. He could feel blood running down his face from a gash somewhere near his temple.

"The COM," he said suddenly.

The ear piece was tiny enough to have escaped detection by either Sark or the woman. But the microphone was hooked under the collar of their shirts and had to be activated. They'd voted for radio silence in case there were Covenant operatives sweeping the area, but they were regretting that decision currently.

"Damn," Sydney moaned, managing to steady her voice a little, though the ringing persisted. "How are we going to manage that?"

"Try to pull both of our arms over your head," Vaughn said. "May be I can reach your mike."

They managed to bring their arms around, but it caused Vaughn considerable pain.

"God damn," he muttered. "I think my shoulder's dislocated."

"Can you do this?" Sydney asked worriedly.

"Yes." Vaughn bit his lip to keep from crying out.

He traced his fingers along her collar, feeling for the small microphone. Just as he tried not to think how he'd love to be doing that under better circumstances, Sydney was trying not to moan in pleasure, despite her pain and the danger of their predicament.

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Jack was worried. Despite all the extra surveillance the CIA had focused on the building for this op, he couldn't locate Sydney or Vaughn. If they were in trouble, surely they would have contacted him? They'd agreed on radio silence unless there was an emergency, so he'd yet to try to contact them.

Then he saw them fleeing from a side exit. Sark had pulled off his mask, and his companion was starting to peel hers off.

Blonde hair spilled from under it. The thing about Lauren that had pulled at him clicked into place, and, already equipped with his COM unit, he sprinted from the van. Her eyes, damn it! He'd seen that same emptiness in Irena's eyes hundreds of times.

Lauren had her mask off now. No question that it was her. Jack took a running shot and hit her; she went down. He didn't pause to see where, just moved on to Sark. He darted into a car and sped away, knowing Lauren had been compromised.

Jack ran up to where Lauren lay on the ground, bleeding from a bullet hole low on the right side of her torso, then just stood over her.

"You know my past," Jack said in a low, dangerous tone. "How long did you think you'd be able to pull off a scam like this when it affects my daughter?"

As he walked off, leaving her to bleed, he activated the COM.

Sydney, Vaughn, are you okay? If you don't respond, I'm coming in after you," he warned.

"Got it!" he heard in the background, then, "Dad! Did you see them?" came Sydney's voice.

"I saw them. Sark got away." 

"Then what about…"

"I shot her."

"It was…" 

"Yes. Where are you?"

"The basement. We're handcuffed together. I don't know if we can even stand," she warned.

"Hold tight. I'll be right there," Jack said, entering the building through the door Sark and Lauren had left through

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"What was that about?" Vaughn asked as he eased his arm back down behind his back. "You knew the other Covenant agent?"

"We both know her, Vaughn," Sydney mumbled softly, her ears still ringing and her head spinning so much that she was unsure if she could stay conscious.

"Who is it? I never saw her very well." Even the nausea he was now fighting didn't quell his curiosity or his agent training.

Vaughn felt her slump against him, and knew she was in worse shape than he'd thought. Hell, _he_ was in worse shape than he thought. As long as he stayed conscious until Jack found them, they'd be okay. He could worry about the Covenant operative later; it didn't sound like she was going anywhere.

"Sydney? Vaughn? Where are you?" Jack's voice called from the top of the stairs.

  
"Here." Vaughn cleared his throat and, regardless of the fact that it made him sick, called again. "We're here."

Jack flipped a switch and light flooded the space. Vaughn thought he was going to keel over; the light made his head swim even worse than he thought possible.

"She's out," he managed to mumble as Jack knelt beside them and started working on the cuffs.

"I see. You two are in bad shape. How did you get down here?"

"The stairs, how else?" Vaughn attempted a wry smile, but it hurt too much.

"What are the odds of you getting out of here under your own steam?"

"I'd say better than Sydney's."

Jack heard the click as the last pair of hand cuffs came open. "See if you can stand. I've got to try to bring her around."

Vaughn stumbled to his feet, amid a colorful string of curses he barely had the breath to utter. Once up, he had to lean against the wall for support.

"Sydney, can you hear me?" Jack was saying, patting Sydney's cheek gently. When she didn't respond, he pressed his fingers against her neck to check her pulse. "She's out." He stood and lifted her. "You going to make it?" he asked in concern when Vaughn's eyes nearly rolled back in his head.

"I'll be fine," Vaughn said through gritted teeth, starting up ahead of Jack.

By sheer will alone, Vaughn made it most of the way up the stairs before he even stumbled.

They were in the hallway to the side exit when Sydney groaned and opened her eyes.

"Let me walk," she mumbled before her father could ask. "Dad," she added with a glance at Vaughn. "Did you tell him?"

Jack shook his head.

Vaughn saw the blonde form laying still and lifeless the moment he stepped out the door. He panicked and stumbled across the parking lot to where she lay at the grassy edge.

"Is she dead?" Sydney asked as she and her father followed.

"She wasn't when I left her, but she may be now," he replied.

They reached Lauren just as Vaughn, visibly trembling, dropped to his knees beside her. He didn't touch her, or even reach out to her; he just stared.

Jack kneeled across from Vaughn and felt Lauren's wrist for a pulse. He just shook his head and shot a sympathetic look at Vaughn when he found none. He found it hard to dislike a man in such a situation when he'd been through a very similar one himself.

Sydney dropped to her knees beside Vaughn, as much as from exhaustion as from a need to comfort him. She put a hand lightly on his shoulder.

"We should go, Vaughn," she said softly. "She's gone. There's nothing we can do."

"It was her," Vaughn muttered in awe, unhearing and unfeeling of his companions. "All along it was her." He looked up at Sydney as realization dawned. "She tried to kill us. She almost had us killed."

"We should go," Jack said, rising to stand above them. His tone was brisk, but it was underscored with an understanding few men could reach.

Slowly--painfully--Vaughn rose to his feet. Sydney stood with him, and for both of them it felt right when she slipped her hand in his. They followed Jack slowly toward their van.

"She's dead," Vaughn whispered softly, so softly Sydney barely heard him. "Lauren is dead," he forced himself to say. "Lauren was the Covenant mole." 

"Oh, Vaughn," Sydney murmured, and he realized a tear had slipped unnoticed down his cheek. She leaned over and kissed him softly. "I'm sorry it was Lauren."

He forced a wan smile. "No, you're not."

"For _you_. She hurt you. But now she's dead. It's over. It's finally over…" Sydney murmured like a mantra.

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Well, I'm done killing Lauren for a little while. But after Sunday, I may well feel the need to kill her again…'til then, folks!


	4. Option 4: Sloane

Option 4: Sloane

Disclaimer: If Alias were mine, I still wouldn't have had this happen. But it's a good idea. I like the idea of Sark, too. We'll see…

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The man sighed. He was beginning to feel every one of his long years. He was thinking, for the first time since he'd been an eager 20-year-old recruit, that may be he didn't belong in espionage any more. He'd seen too much. He'd seen people he loved suffer too much.

Which brought a whole new plague of thoughts on him. There was no doubt anywhere in his mind that there was something off with Lauren Reed. Far enough off--to his eye--that he felt it his duty to somehow remove her from Sydney and Vaughn's lives. If only there was some was to do it without killing her. Until he had proof. Because if what he suspected was true…

Arvin Sloane jumped two feet out of his comfortable desk chair when his phone rang, jolting him from his thoughts.

"Sloane," he answered a little more shortly than normal.

A highly distorted voice reached his ears: a Covenant contact.

"Sloane, we are in need of your services," the voice said cryptically. "It seems we have developed a problem with one of our most trusted operatives. Can you take care of it?"

"Of course. What did you have in mind?" he asked, keeping the resignation from his voice carefully.

"Her assassination."

Sloane cringed. He knew where his next call would have to be directed, and as fast as they could get to Zurich there'd be agents crowding his office.

"That can be done."

"The operative is one Lauren reed. Are you familiar with her?"

"I don't believe we've ever met," he lied.

"I'll send you her file within the hour." 

"I'll be waiting."

Sloane hung up the phone, but made no move to dial the CIA. If he played this right, he could win wither way. Perhaps he'd just wait for her file, then decide how to spin it.

The file was placed on his desk by his secretary barely thirty minutes later.

__

Perfect, he thought gleefully as flipped through it. _Just enough to involve the CIA._

The file revealed all. Lauren Reed was the mole inside the CIA. Now, he'd just have to get in tough with Jack…

__

No, he thought with a smile. He would initiate things first. After all, the Covenant would expect it, and might even check up on him.

He picked up the phone and dialed a number familiar to him, even though he hadn't called it in years.

"This is Arvin Sloane. I believe I have work for you," he said when the phone was answered. "I need to see you in my Zurich office within the hour, or I'll find someone else."

He hung up sharply. Exactly one hour later, his secretary buzzed him over the intercom system.

"Mr. Sloane, there's a man here to see you. He didn't give his name, but says you're expecting him," she said uncertainly.

"Send him in," Sloane replied.

"Arvin Sloane," the man said, grinning. "I was under the impression you'd gone soft. Or is this just a one time, free-lance job?"

"You always were too curious, Joseph," Sloane muttered. He slid a copy of Lauren's file across his desk. "Take three days, familiarize yourself with the target. Do not act until the three days are up. If you do, I will not take responsibility for you. And if you link this back to me in any way, I have connections you wouldn't believe now."

"Gotcha, sir. The usual payment, I assume?"

"You'll get paid when the job is done, Joseph. My word is still the same."

"Yes, sir," Joseph took the file, grinned, and strode out. 

Sloane waited only until the man was out of the building before he picked up the phone again.

"Jack Bristow, please," he told the operator.

"Bristow," Jack answered briskly.

"Jack. We need to talk. I'll come to you."

"I am not your handler. Perhaps you should contact that poor soul."

"This personal, Jack. In a roundabout way, this may involve Sydney."

"Fine. I'll meet you at contact point seven. Call my cell when you get there."

"I'm leaving now."

*************************************************************************************

Jack debated with himself for hours; to tell Dixon, or to keep it to himself? Sloane said it was personal, so to involve the CIA might be overkill. But when it came to Sloane, it never hurt to have a few allies Sloane was unaware of.

"Dixon?" Jack said, tapping lightly on Dixon's open door. "Got a minute?"

"Sure, Jack. What's going on?" Dixon asked carefully.

"Sloane contacted me today. I'm not sure what to make of it, so I thought I'd best bring it to you."

"What did he say?"

"Not much. He wants to talk to me. He said it was personal, and that it might involve Sydney. I expet to meet with him sometime tonight."

"Did he threaten Sydney?"

"No, he just hinted that whatever this is involves her somehow. Has the call log from Sloane's building been swept today?"

"No. I'll get someone on it. Tell me the truth, Jack. Are you worried about this?"

"I think at the very least Sloane has created another mess for this agency."

"I'll check him out myself, then."

"Thank you." Jack rose and left Dixon to make calls and issue orders.

*************************************************************************************

Jack answered his cell phone without a trace of the anxiety he felt, mostly because he was expecting the call. He was watching the meeting point he'd agreed upon, an old SD-6 contact point rather than a CIA point. He wondered if Dixon would recognize it as he told Sloane he was coming.

He dialed Dixon's number immediately after hanging up with Sloane.

"He's here." Then he gave Dixon directions to the remote corner of the city park that few people arrives, even by chance.

"That's SD-6," Dixon said, irritated by the memory.

"Yes. I avoided CIA points because I wasn't sure how I was going to handle this."

Jack waited ten minutes before striding up the path to meet Sloane. Sloane just stood and smiled as Jack approached.

"You're going to like this, Jack," Sloane decreed when Jack stopped.

"What?" Jack asked flatly.

"I was just thinking today that Lauren Reed was a problem in Sydney's life right now. I was wishing I could get rid of her. For Sydney, Jack. Then the Covenant contacted me. They want me to eliminate one of their operatives that they believe has become a threat more than an asset. I have your mole, Jack." Sloane grinned and passed the file he was holding over to Jack.

Jack opened the file to a picture of Lauren Reed.

"And what did you do?" Jack asked, knowing to Sloane to well to assume he had handed over the information without acting on it, first.

Gauging Jack's attitude carefully, Sloane said, "You have reason to believe there is a hit out on Lauren Reed. Confront her. Explain that to her. Then you tell her she had another option. She can confess to being Covenant, and a mole, and she lives. I believe she'll chose life in a cell over death, Jack, and then Sydney's Michael Vaughn will know the truth, and Sydney can be happy again."  
  
"Your pardon agreement will be revoked if the CIA finds out about this," Jack commented.

  
"Tell then only that the Covenant wanted me to execute their mole. If Lauren should escape, she'll be killed. You win either way, Jack."

Jack pulled a small device from his pocket and held it out in his hands.

Sloane's eyes twinkled as if he'd been waiting on this revelation.

"Who's on the other end?"

"Only Dixon. What he does with this will be his decision. I suggest we go meet him now," Jack said, his voice not as cold as it could have been.

Sloane nodded. "Good."

*************************************************************************************

Dixon was in an empty CIA safe house when Jack and Sloane arrived.

Dixon smiled softly. "I didn't hear a thing, Jack. I'm not a vindictive person, but I think our mole is going to get what's coming to her. Sloane, I assume that evidence will make it through the proper channels tomorrow?"

"Of course. It's nice to have you backing us, Marcus," Sloane said.

Dixon's eyes flashed briefly. "I should get home. I promise the kids I'd play video games with them tonight."

*************************************************************************************

"Lauren," Jack said with customary hardness. "Do you have a minute? I believe there's something we need to discuss."

"Of course," Lauren said, smiling. "Did I miss a briefing?"

Jack didn't respond, but led her into an empty office, closing the door behind them.

"You're Covenant," he said sharply. "I know it. I'll prove it. I also came across the information that there's a contract out on your life. Your best bet, Miss Reed, is to turn yourself in. I'm not reporting the contract. Turn yourself in, because if you try to run, you'll turn up dead."

Lauren looked shocked, but then, she probably was shocked that someone had found her out.

"I don't know what you're talking about, Agent Bristow! But that sounded an awful lot like a threat! I should report you for harassment!" she snapped, pushing past him and out of the office.

Jack allowed himself a small grin. This was going perfectly.

Dixon called a briefing for the task force just after noon. Both jack and Dixon noted with satisfaction that Lauren seemed to be off center.

When everyone had assembled, Dixon stood up.

"Everyone, I have good news. Thanks to Arvin Sloane, I have intel that identifies the mole we have suspected existed in the building for months."

Dixon paused, just as Lauren did a very good job of faking sick. Good enough that Vaughn rose to go after her.

"Sit down, Agent Vaughn," Dixon said with a glance at Jack, who rose to intercept Vaughn.

"But Lauren…" Vaughn protested.

"You need to see this. Please sit down," Dixon said more gently.

Vaughn's eyebrows drew together in confusion, but he sat.

Dixon nodded to jack, who also sat.

"I've identified our mole," Dixon repeated softly, pressing a button on the remote he held in his hand. The screens in front of the agents lit up, and there was an audible gasp. Vaughn remained silent.

Sydney was the first to speak up. "But…she's probably gone, right now!"

Dixon grimaced and nodded to Jack again, who produced an anti-eavesdropping device.

"Three minutes," he announced.

"What I'm about to say can never leave this room," Dixon began. "If you have a problem with that, leave now." He shot a glance at Vaughn while Marshal scrambled for the door.

"Sorry, I just…I'd really rather…" Marshal stuttered. Dixon nodded understandingly.

"There's a contract out on Lauren Reed right now. She's aware of it, and aware that her options right now are to turn herself in or be killed. Sloane also reported the contract," Dixon added.

Vaughn paled visibly, but remained silent and still.

"And we're not going after her?" Sydney asked softly.

Dixon shook his head. "She not only compromised CIA ops, but she screwed with the lives of our agents. In this task force, we take care of our own, with or against the rules."

Jack's device beeped, and everyone was silent. 

"So now we wait," Dixon finished. "That's it."

*************************************************************************************

Two days later, Sloane held the sights of a sniper rifle trained on the door of the opposite building, and a remote detonator in his left hand. He knew the way his assassin worked, and he would be the one to pull the trigger on Lauren Reed.

When she walked out in a brunette wig and sun shades, he pulled the trigger and pushed the detonator simultaneously. Lauren fell, and a small explosion blew on a building on the other side of the street, sending down debris to pelt onlookers on the street.

Sloane smiled. Lauren was dead, and so was the assassin. The Covenant would assume the CIA had attempted to stop the hit and failed, and the CIA would think the Covenant hadn't trusted the assassin.

He'd taken care of the competition. Now Sydney could get what she wanted, without the guilt hanging over her head every time she came close.

No one would ever believe him, but it was all for Sydney.

_____________________________________________________________________________________

Creepy, huh? I'm thinking out a plot for Sark to kill her of next, cheating bitch! Er…uh…I didn't mean…Okay, so I meant that. Deal with it! Hehehe.


	5. Option 5: Sark

Option 5: Sark

Disclaimer: The characters aren't mine, but any cruel or unusual forms of torture found in this fic belong solely to me.

A/N: This is set somewhere (take your pick) after Lauren and Sark team up, but before anyone gets genuinely suspicious of Lauren. Ignore the whole Senator Reed fiasco; I don't like it, so it plays no part in _my_ fic.

"Don't worry, love. I'll be back Monday," Lauren said, leaning down to give Vaughn a quick kiss before she left the Op Center for an NSC briefing.

"I just don't like it that you're going to be away this weekend," Vaughn complained. "I have the time off, and I was hoping we could spend it together."

"I know, love. But if I don't leave now I'm going to miss my flight."

"Of course. I'll see you Monday." Vaughn smiled, and Lauren left.

Just as Vaughn got back to work, Sydney walked up behind him.

"Dixon wants to see the task force. New intel on the Covenant," she said, forcing herself to be casual even though seeing him with Lauren made her skin crawl.

"Not an op, I hope. I'm supposed to have time off," Vaughn said.

"So am I," Sydney said with a smirk. "When has that ever mattered?"

"Never, I guess," Vaughn admitted.

Sydney walked in silence to the conference room, she and Vaughn coming in last. Dixon began talking as soon as they were seated.

"The Covenant is making a move on a Rambaldi artifact currently being held by the North Korean government. The mission is very straight forward," he said, passing folders to Sydney and Vaughn. "Beat them to it. We believe this artifact will reveal the form if not the whereabouts of the Passenger. That information can not fall into the hands of the Covenant," eh added firmly. "You leave in two hours. Flight information is in the folder."

"May be next weekend," Sydney muttered to Vaughn.

"This is a bad move," Lauren complained heatedly. "If the CIA learns of this, they'll undoubtedly send Michael and Sydney to retrieve the artifact. If they recognize me, my cover will be blown."

"Then I suggest you don't let them see you," Sark said dryly.

"Why can't you go in alone? I could run surveillance and be just as useful."

"We go in together," Sark said, leaving no room to argue.

"This is pointless! The intel I've provided has proven invaluable! This is too big of a risk…" Lauren argued anyway.

"You are not indispensable," Sark said with an arrogant smirk.

Sark stepped out of the plane that had landed barely ten minutes before and hurried down the stairs to the runway, Lauren following angrily.

"As I said," Sark called over his shoulder to her. "We'll move tonight at midnight. Hopefully, the CIA won't have time to act on their intel."

Cruising at 35,000 feet, Sydney snatched up her cell phone when the Nokia ring tone sounded.

"Bristow."

"Sydney, Sark is in North Korea," Dixon said quickly. "I want you to move up the op. move as soon as everything is in position."

"So we know if he has backup?" Sydney asked immediately.

"Unknown. There seems to be a woman with him in several of the satellite graphics we've got, but none of her face. The pictures aren't very clear."

"I'll pass it on." 

"Good luck."

Sydney looked up to meet Vaughn's anxious gaze.

"Sark is in North Korea. It looks like he's got at least one female operative with him, but she's unidentified," she said, frustration showing itself in her voice. "Dixon wants us to move fast."

"How did they come by the intel?" Vaughn asked.

"Satellite images. They could enhance it enough to get a positive ID on Sark, but there were no good images of the woman's face."

"So we're going in half blind?"

"Looks that way. We may not be able to establish a radio connection to LA with all the government interference, either."

"Great. We're essentially crippled," Vaughn muttered. "Does Dixon suspect there are more operatives?"

"That's not usually how the Covenant works. He seems to think we're just dealing with Sark and his friend. We stand a good chance."

The facility seemed deserted, putting Vaughn and Sydney on their guard. The place should have been heavily guarded. And all of the guards should have been firing semi-automatic machine guns at them by now.

Sydney saw a man in a guard's uniform on the ground, and stooped to check him.

"Dead," she said simply. "Sark is already here."

Without much risk of guards appearing they moved quickly toward the storage room where the artifact was, guns drawn and ready for the first sign of movement.

Just as they reached the stairwell, they heard a noise overhead.

"Sark has already found the storage room," Vaughn muttered, more to himself then to Sydney.

They raced up the stairs, hoping to at least destroy the artifact rather than let the Covenant get it.

Sark paused to look at the amazingly detailed vase. The designs were for more than show; they would reveal, if the rumors were true, what the Passenger was and where to find it.

Finally, Sark pulled out a tiny laser and began burning a hole in the protective glass case.

Lauren stood behind him, holding the oversized backpack to put the vase in. Sark eased it from the glass and handed it to her, and she carefully packed it away. With her hand on the strap, Lauren hesitated.

The heat within the Covenant was becoming intense. Sark had as much has said he could kill her with little or no effect on himself. While the life she'd fabricated was nothing more than a lie, it was comfortable. How would it be if she could just settle into that façade, and forget the Covenant? It would be so much more tranquil…

Sark sensed her hesitation. No way was he going to be double-crossed.

Sydney and Vaughn entered the big storage room just in time to hear the shot echo off the walls. They saw the shock, then the knowledge that she was going to die cross Lauren's face. They saw the powerful bullet tear through Lauren's chest, then explode out of her back, bringing with it a thick spray of blood. And they saw her fall.

Sark didn't take the time to shoot at them. He snatched up the heavy backpack and ran.

Sydney snapped out of the cloud of shock and confusion first, and charged after him. Another door led onto another hallway, and Sydney followed Sark through it. With one well-aimed shot, the pack fell, the strap shredded. Sark kept running; he knew if he even paused Sydney would shoot him. She grabbed the pack and ran back in the opposite direction.

Vaughn stood next to Lauren's pitifully crumpled, bloody body. His face was grim, but strong; he'd reached the same conclusion Sydney had. There was no NSC meeting. Lauren was Covenant.

And now she was dead.

She'd been lying all along.

But now she was dead.

Lauren Reed had betrayed the CIA.

She'd betrayed _him_.

Lauren Reed was dead.

I just loved repeating that! Dead…dead…dead…Heehee!

And, okay, so it was no coincidence that I started this off with a scene very similar to the one where Jack finally puts two and two together and gets four, as opposed to seven hundred and thirty six.

Okay, I'm running out of plot ideas for this fic. Other than Vaughn and Syd together (which I'm _working _on, it just isn't right!) who should kill Lauren? I've used, Syd, Vaughn, Jack, Sloane, and Sark…there aren't that many characters left! But no worries…If I have to use a train driven by a random psycho, Lauren will die again! Actually, that sounds like fun…lotsa blood in that one! Heehee…I think I better stick to characters killing her…so…Ah-ha! I've got it! A psycho Dixon driving the train! Yes! Perfect! (Or not…what do ya'll think?)


	6. Option 6: Suicide

Option 6: Suicide

Disclaimer: Any forms of torture found here better not show up on Alias, but I can hardly stop them from using their characters…

A/N: Thanks for all the suggestions, ya'll! I personally don't like this option, but it makes a good Kill Lauren fic! And I think the descriptions here are satisfyingly graphic…

Vaughn walked through the familiar apartment in a daze. There wasn't a single thing out of place that he could see in the living room or kitchen. The stack of magazines on the coffee table was undisturbed. A coffee mug someone had forgotten that morning sat on the counter. A pair of sandals Lauren had kicked off sat at the end of the couch.

But cops and CIA and NSC agents swarmed the rooms. What had been a cozy apartment a few hours earlier now seemed cold and distant, and achingly unfamiliar.

A neighbor had made the call. Vaughn didn't care which neighbor. They'd heard a scream. At least he hadn't come home to find her.

He stopped in the doorway of the second bedroom Lauren had used as an office. The distance with which he viewed the scene scared him.

Lauren's body still lay crumpled on the floor. Her pale gray suit was stained crimson with her blood. There were puddles of still sticky blood on the carpet. The beige couch had red smears and it and two distinct handprints on it, as if Lauren had stumbled and clutched at it to get her balance. The knife lay across her sticky outstretched palm, her fingers no longer grasping it.

Vaughn forced himself to look at her face; a face he now knew had been a mask, hiding her true intentions. Her eyes were still slightly open, and her pupils were glazed and unfocused. Her lips, with a drop of blood clinging to the corner, were parted slightly and already tinged with blue. Her cheeks were so pale they were almost white, resembling a cheap fabric more than human flesh.

After several long moments, Vaughn shook his head and forced himself to turn away from the gruesomely transfixing scene. And nearly walked right into Sydney.

"I'm sorry, Vaughn," she said quietly. "You don't deserve this."

Vaughn opened his mouth, but discovered he couldn't form words, nor could he cover the distance that seemed to have formed between him and all other life forms.

"Vaughn?" Sydney reached up and touched his cheek. "Vaughn, you're scaring me."

Vaughn blinked.

"Sorry," he murmured. "I just can't…did you see…do you think she really…?"

Sydney gave him a small comforting smile.

"I did see her. And I saw _you_. You didn't have to go in there, Vaughn. Dixon should have kept you out," she scolded lightly.

"I needed to see. Otherwise…I couldn't believe she committed _suicide_," Vaughn said, his voice wavering slightly. His eyes met Sydney's full on for the first time. "Just like I can't believe what Dixon said was in that note until I see it myself." He looked at her as if he expected her to argue.

"Of course," she said softly.

She had seen the look of initial fury on Vaughn's face before he'd closed himself off when Dixon had told the task force what Lauren's suicide note said. He had a right to feel that way, as long as he faced the truth when he looked at it.

Dixon was walking up with a paper in his hand. A photocopy of the suicide note, Sydney knew. The police had taken the original, and Dixon had let them.

He handed Vaughn the paper, and he took it silently. His face barely changed as he read it, but Sydney saw the change in his eyes; he was letting go with every word he took in.

Michael, the note said. _I know I've mad your life difficult. But I'm the mole. I'm Covenant. I used to think their cause was worth using any means to obtain it. You were part of that at first. But it changed. Somewhere along the way, the Covenant's cause lost its luster. I couldn't get out, even if I'd tried. They'd never have let me. The things I've done, when compounded, have begun to scare me. I stopped at nothing. I don't know what I might have done, or who I might have killed. May be even you, Michael. I've taken care of your biggest problem for you, much as you probably would have done had you known. Once the CIA found out, someone would have done this anyway._

The bitter not had been left unsigned, and even on the photocopy it could be seen where the corner had soaked in its writer's blood.

Ah, perfectly painful, don't you think? She kills herself, and it's so painful that she screams out. And she held onto the knife even as she died. Blood everywhere. Now _that_ was a nice way for her to die!


	7. Option 7: Psycho Dixon

Option 7: Psycho Dixon

Disclaimer: Alias isn't mine. Have you _seen _any of these hideous fantasies played out on tv yet??

A/N: This is just a little tidbit to tide you over until I get the next piece posted. I mentioned this in jest, but I got such enthusiastic reviews that I took a few minutes out of my science class to write it…

A shrill scream pierced the air, but it was drowned out completely by the more powerful sound of a train whistle.

By some odd and completely unimportant turn of events, Lauren now found herself facing down death by several hundred pound train, while bound helplessly to the tracks.

She screamed again, but once again the driver of the heavy soon-to-be murder weapon anticipated her actions and sounded the whistle. The train was close enough now that Lauren could barely hear herself above the loud whistle.

In sheer terror, she looked through the windshield of the big machine. Even with the distance and the glaring glass between them, she could see the psychotic light behind Dixon's eyes.

She'd pissed him off, and he'd finally snapped. Along with her terror, she felt a frighteningly calm knowledge that Dixon could go back to normal later, as if none of this had ever happened. She'd seen him; if he chose, he could kill her and no one would ever know.

The train was bearing down on her now. Even if there was anyone left who cared enough to save her it was too late. The train was too close and the ropes tied too tight.

Lauren screamed once more, and this time Dixon didn't sound the whistle. It was almost as if he wanted to hear her now. His eyes remained frozen on her struggling form, which had become nearly indistinguishable from the tracks in the black night.

Dixon turned away at the last moment; even when his rage had become uncontainable, he still felt some compassion for the sufferings of a human being.

There was one final scream, cut short by the slice of metal through flesh. Dixon didn't want to hear it, nor did he want to see the spray of blood that flew up and splattered the windows.

The way Dixon saw it in his moment of total and complete psychotic insanity, Lauren deserved every bloody chunk she'd been torn into.

Bloody, graphic, short…okay, so it's not the _best _part of this story, but it made me feel better to write it! Who wouldn't want to run Lauren over with a train, given the random series of events that leaves her helplessly bound to the tracks???


	8. Option 8: Irina

Option 8: Irina

Disclaimer: Alias isn't mine, but this entire scenario is. If alias had wanted to use it, of course, I wouldn't have minded, but I liked Vaughn shooting Lauren while making out with Syd better. You just can't beat it. Now if we just knew what the hell Lauren knew???? And what the hell was Jack thinking??? He had that "I'm going to shoot you" look…

A/N: Please ignore the above rant. I'm really not looking for reviews that spend all the time commenting on what they think of the finale…but if I get them, it's my own fault…

After months--no, years, now--of never seeing her daughter in person, rather than in pictures and in surveillance footage, the miserable look on Sydney's face was not what Irina wanted to see.

The building was dark, and there could have been scores of men hidden behind all the crates and boxes in the huge warehouse, but Sydney walked in with complete confidence. Irina allowed herself a small smile over the fact that Sydney trusted her.

Sydney herself was surprised that she wasn't more nervous about the meeting she'd asked her father to arrange. Irina Derevko was hardly a woman whose word could be taken in good faith. Yet she was here, wasn't she, Sydney chided herself.

"Sydney," Irina said softly. "It's good to see you. I was…surprised," she said carefully. "When Jack told me you wanted to meet with me." Irina's revealing eyes held questions.

"I need a favor. I don't have the contacts to do this alone," Sydney said cryptically, waiting to see if her mother was willing to help.

"I hope the favor you ask will ease the unhappiness I see in your eyes," Irina said easily.

Sydney shook her head.

"I don't know what it will do. You know Lauren Reed has been revealed as Covenant?"

"Yes, that's what Jack said."

"She's missing."

"And you want her found."

"I want her _dead_," Sydney said vehemently. "Something has to change. Vaughn is going to get himself in a…difficult…situation if someone doesn't do something." Sydney hesitated, then continued. "I think Dad is helping him, if not deeply involved in whatever Vaughn is doing."

Irina nodded grimly.

"You want her killed before Vaughn or Jack does it."

"I was hoping you could arrange that for me. If it gets traced back, I don't want it traced to one of them." Sydney squared her shoulders defensively. "I don't doubt either one of them is capable, of that Vaughn will do exactly that if he finds her first."

Irina nodded.

"I'll arrange it. My contacts will find her," she said softly, he tone almost comforting if not for the deadly calm underneath that said she knew the difficulty of the task set before her.

"Thank you," Sydney said sincerely. "I wouldn't do this, but…"

"But you're protecting people you love," Irina finished with a soft smile that said she understood perfectly.

"Thank you," Sydney repeated.

"Don't worry. I'll take care of it, and I'll see to it your Mr. Vaughn and Jack stay away from her."

Irina smiled sadly at Sydney and resisted the urge to hug her daughter before she walked away. Sydney saw the reluctance in Irina's step, but was unsure how she could respond to it.

"It was good to see you, too," Sydney finally called before turning and leaving herself.

She was still surprised that she had total confidence that her mother would not only carry out her request, but protect Vaughn and Jack, too.

Lauren sat uneasily in the house the Covenant had provided for her to hide in until she could make other arrangements. For days, she'd felt as if someone was watching. Twice at night she'd spun around to be unsure if the flash she'd seen in the window had been a face on the other side or her own reflection.

She should be safe in Singapore. So far as the CIA knew, the Covenant had no ties to the little island country. They had no reason to look for her here. Only Sark and a few high ranking Covenant officers knew she was there, and there was so little of a paper trail that even the CIA couldn't trace her.

__

So why was she so sure someone was watching, waiting to pounce like a mountain lion waits for its prey?

Irina smiled and allowed herself a soft chuckle as she slipped unerringly through the dark. Lauren should be getting pretty jumpy, after three days of painfully obvious observation. Irina had gotten in to set up cameras and microphones without even tipping Lauren off. She didn't need to get up close.

But Lauren had made the lives of some people very dear to Irina hell. She felt it her duty to not only fulfill Sydney's request personally, but also to return the favor. Lauren would be a very nervous woman before Irina made the first move.

A shoe shifted slightly. Move some clothes in a drawer. Take a sock's mate from the fryer. A missing fork from the sink. _Little things guaranteed to drive a woman crazy, _Irina thought with a full blown smile.

A couple more days of this, and Lauren would jump at her own shadow. Then there would be a few hours, at least, of painful torture.

Yes, there were two very important lessons Irina Derevko had learned in her life. The first was that the CIA, in one way or another, took care of their own. The second had taken her a lot longer to learn; the Bristows took care of each other. Somewhere along the line, she'd become a part of that.

Which, of course, made it her maternal duty to torture Lauren before she killed her.

"Vaughn," Sydney said firmly, catching up to him in the shadowy parking garage. "I want to know what you're up to. You've been avoiding me."

Vaughn turned and stared at her for a moment.

"Sydney, I'm just resolving a few things," he said.

"You're looking for her," Sydney said, challenging him to deny it. "Don't do this, Vaughn," she added when he didn't.

"Sydney, let me do this. Trust me."

Sydney pressed her lips together.

"Don't do anything stupid, Vaughn," she warned carefully. "There are bound to be people watching Lauren. If you get too close, alarms are going to be raised."

"I'll be careful, Sydney."

"One more question. How is my father involved?"

Vaughn looked surprised for a second, then didn't answer.

"Well, there we do!" Sydney exclaimed. "You two are both in over your heads!"

She spun and walked away, hoping her mother was keeping very close tabs on Michael Vaughn and Jack Bristow.

Vaughn had two days off. He hadn't told Sydney that; she'd have decapitated him--or worse--on the spot if she'd known. He'd only traced Lauren as far as being somewhere on the island of Singapore. That meant he had two days to find Lauren and decide what he was going to do about her.

He drove directly to the airport from the Op Center. He'd packed a small suitcase that morning so he wouldn't have to waste any time. He was booked on a flight to Singapore under an alias, and he had about thirty minutes to drive across town to the airport or he'd miss that flight.

Vaughn's face was as grim as his thoughts as he maneuvered LA traffic. He'd get some sleep on the plane, because chances were he wouldn't sleep again until the flight back. Then he'd be able to rest easy. Lauren would be dead.

He thought about the key in his pocket, the one Jack had given him. He hadn't been able to honestly tell Sydney Jack wasn't involved, but the truth was Jack knew about as much as Sydney. Vaughn had gone into the storage facility, yes. He'd even picked up one of the automatic machine guns to test its weight. But he couldn't use any of it. Part of it was reluctance to be involved with Jack, but most of it was the necessity to do this on his own, his own way.

In such a way that no one could ever trace it back to him.

Irina muttered a curse under her breath when her search turned up a reservation on a Singapore bound flight that could only be Vaughn's. He'd be in the city already, most likely. Even if he hadn't known where Lauren was when he'd landed, Michael Vaughn had some very effective contacts. It would take him less than an hour to trace her to the Covenant safe house.

It was the dead of night. Irina would just have to move her plans up one night. And cut them short. She couldn't afford for Michael Vaughn to implicate himself. He would only complicate an already impossible situation. The man sure knew how to ruin a woman's fun!

And fun it would be. Anyone who dared mess with her daughter's life would not be happy when Irina Derevko got through with them!

Lauren wandered around the house, the only light from the TV. She couldn't sleep; the time difference was too great. She was wary of turning on any lights, though. Despite its relative isolation, she didn't want to call attention to the house.

Bored, she wandered into the den in search of a notepad. Random doodling on papers was a habit she'd broken herself of as a teenager, but whenever she was nervous it never failed to return. The pad she'd been sketching on earlier sat on the coffee table, but the pen she'd used was nowhere nearby.

She'd moved or misplaced too many things in the past few days. Was it just nerves, or was she nervous because so many things weren't where she remembered leaving them? She was fearful enough to begin to suspect the latter.

The missing pen was more irritating than something to worry about, Lauren scolded herself, moving things around on the counter. The pen couldn't be too hard to find, with its distinctive bright purple design.

A noise behind her made her look up, toward the window. When she saw nothing, Lauren sighed. She should have muted the damn TV. It was making her jumpy.

Giving up her search for the pen, Lauren turned off the TV and walked toward her bedroom, hoping to get some respite from the restlessness. She walked in and kicked off her slippers by the bed.

Turning around, she saw a figure emerge from the closet. Lauren gasped and switched on the lamp by the bed.

She found herself standing face to face with a figure she'd never encountered, but knew enough about to know she didn't want to. A ruthless, dangerous woman.

She was holding up a purple pen and smiling.

"Did you lose this, Lauren?" Irina Derevko asked mildly, tossing the pen onto the bed.

Vaughn dodged through the trees edging the property, noting carefully when the window began to glow from the TV. Good. She was awake.

Vaughn felt the handgun through the material of his jacket. Nothing that might get traced back to LA in any way, but just as deadly.

A frown stole onto Vaughn's face as the TV was turned off, leaving the house in the dark. Minutes later, a light blinked on in what Vaughn figured had to be a bedroom.

He moved out of the cover of trees and stole through the darkness to the house. The process took him several long minutes; there was someone in the house awake, he had to be cautious. Lauren probably had a gun nearby.

Vaughn eased up to look through the lighted window, then ducked back down quickly.

Had his eyes deceived him, or had Derevko been the one with a gun while Lauren was tied helplessly to a chair?!?

He peeked over the sill again, then swore. Yep, Derevko was wielding a powerful looking handgun with a silencer, and Lauren was tied to the type of uncomfortable hard wooden chair some people put in a room for purely decorative purposes.

Well, Derevko had to have gotten in somewhere, Vaughn thought as he looked around. He'd get in, too. Preferably without the women being aware of it. Neither of them looked _happy_. Lauren looked pissed, Derevko looked murderous behind her false smile, but neither of them looked _happy._

Derevko never reacted, not that Lauren would have seen, but she'd seen Vaughn in the window. Both times. He really did need looking after tight now; anger seemed to render him reckless.

She knew she'd have to hurry the matter now. She couldn't have Mr. Vaughn getting himself in any more trouble than he'd already be in when Sydney found out what he'd been up to. But he mild irritation at Vaughn's appearance turned to distress when she heard a window rattle; it wouldn't take him long now to find her point of entry.

Disgusted that Lauren's death would be quick and nearly painless after all, Irina pulled out the gun with a silencer on it. _Lauren's own gun, from her own nightstand drawer, _Irina reminded herself as she saw the glint of recognition in Lauren's eyes. There was panic there, too.

Irina smiled at the irony that Lauren could point a gun--even if she hadn't fired it--at her own father, but still show such utter panic when faced with the same predicament herself. The woman wasn't cut out to be a spy; she didn't realize there was nearly always an escape, if only one didn't panic.

She sighed as she pointed and fired, just as she heard the tell-tale rattle in the bathroom signifying Vaughn has found the frosted window that swung inward. Even with the silencer, he would have heard the shot. She'd better be ready when he came charging in ready to kill her just for being.

Vaughn launched himself into the bathroom with a strength coming solely from anger that he didn't want to examine too closely. Lauren was dead by now; so who was he mad at? He decided not to consider it too closely until he found Derevko and knew whether she was aware of him or not.

He nearly had to laugh at himself; as much noise as he'd made clambering in that high window, how could she _not_ be aware of him?

The gun he pulled from a holster hidden under his windbreaker--never mind how he smuggled it to Singapore--didn't have a silencer. If he fired it, he'd have to move fast in case it was heard, but it wouldn't matter by then.

Vaughn moved stealthily through the house toward the bedroom. Easing the door open, all he could see was Lauren, still tied to the chair, with a bullet hole in her chest.

Just as he started to do a more thorough inspection, the door slammed back into him, throwing him off balance. The last thing he saw before blackness enveloped him was Irina Derevko slamming the butt of her gun into the side of his head.

The message her father had given her had suggested it was urgent that she meet with her mother in the previously arranged warehouse. Urgent enough to have Sydney leave work in the middle of the day. She was almost afraid of what she'd find once she walked into the warehouse.

It was bright and sunny outside, but inside the warehouse it was gloomy and dim. Sydney felt like every nerve ending in her body was standing on end. Her trained eyes searched out her mother amid the rubbish and debris of old crates and boxes, searching for any sign of movement. Derevko stepped into view just as Sydney's eyes grazed her hiding place.

"Sydney," she said, a hint of anxiety in her voice, or may be nerves. "I did what you asked. But I encountered a…well, a difficulty, if you will." Irina gestured behind a large shipping crate.

Sydney walked over warily, then gasped and dropped to her knees beside him when she saw Vaughn lying on the floor.

"Dammit, what did you do?" Sydney snapped, nothing the discolored mark on the side of his head roughly the shape of the butt of a gun.

" only hit him once," Irina defended. "I was in the house with Lauren when he showed up. He saw me. I couldn't just let him go once I'd knocked him out."

Sydney shook her head and stood. Of course Vaughn had been partially to blame for his own predicament.

"So what the hell am I supposed to do with him?" Sydney asked, throwing her hands up.

Irina smiled.

"I suggest you take him home with you, yell at him for his stupidity for a while when he wakes up, then convince him its in his best interests to keep this ordeal to himself."

"And if he won't?"

Irina held the smile.

"What reason would I have to kill Lauren Reed?"

Sydney couldn't help but laugh at the look of innocence that her mother pulled off.

"No one would ever believe it of you," Sydney said, "Assuming there's no evidence. Now how am I supposed to get him home by myself?"

"I'll help. I got him in here, after all," Irina said, moving to stand at his feet.

between the two of them, they got Vaughn into the backseat of Sydney's car with minimal bodily harm. Vaughn came out of it pretty well, too.

"What did you _give_ him?" Sydney grunted, arranging Vaughn so that the door wouldn't hit him in the head when she shut it.

"Just a healthy dose of Valium," Irina said. "It'll wear off in a couple of hours now."

"I'm going to have my hands full when he wakes up," Sydney muttered.

"You'll manage."

"Uh, thanks. For…taking care of all this. Do you think the CIA will be able to trace him?"

"He was thorough. I was just more so. The CIA won't trace him to Singapore," Irina said confidently.

"Thanks."

"Good luck, Sydney," irina said, grinning as she glanced into the backseat.

"I'm gonna need it," she muttered as she closed the driver's side door and drove away.

She pulled into a parking garage and stopped a few blocks from her apartment. She'd read a while, and wait for Vaughn to wake up.

The first thing Vaughn became aware of was the heaviness of the air, like it tends to get in a stationary enclosed car. Then he realized what an uncomfortable--and unnatural--position he was in.

Vaughn opened his eyes to see Sydney turned around in the front of the car, sitting with her knees in the seat so that she could watch him over the back.

She smiled nervously.

"Hey." Her expression hardened slightly. "Have fun in Singapore?"

He winced.

"Derevko killed Lauren. What'd she do to me? And where are we?" he added, struggling in to a sitting position.

"She knocked you out and fed you Valium, which is a lot less than the Covenant would have done if they'd caught you stalking Lauren. And we're in LA," she added mockingly. "That was stupid, Vaughn. If you'd asked, I would have gone with you. My mother proved you weren't fit to work alone."

"What all do you know?" Vaughn asked carefully.

"That Lauren's dead, and my mother saw it fit to deliver you to me," she said steadily, watching his expression.

"You should know your father offered me the use of…a weapons storehouse he has, but I didn't use it. If anything is traced, it won't be to him."

If anything is traced, it will be to me," Sydney said assuredly. "I…my mother was working at my request," she admitted, not looking the least bit reluctant or apologetic. "I knew what I'd do in your position, and I also knew how stupid it was. I couldn't let you do it."

Vaughn shook his head.

"Just when I think I've got you figured out, you hire an assassin," he said, a hint of humor in his voice.

"_Hire_ implies money. No money changed hands," Sydney said nonchalantly. "But it did the job just as well. Lauren Reed is dead. Now you can get on with your life." Sydney paused, and Vaughn thought she was done. "And don't ever put me in a situation where my mother delivers you to me unconscious again," she added harshly.

This was written before the finale, and I didn't have it in me to write it and not post it. This, of course, will be the last one, with Lauren being dead and all. And I certainly couldn't have written that scene better myself! Props to the writers of that! S/V forever, evil Laurens!

Ahem...review, please?


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